The Night
by AnnMiuka
Summary: Dean can't stand his feelings for Castiel anymore and takes things to the ultimate level, the first time for both of them. Uncertainty tangles with determination. M-M Lemon. Rated for content.
1. The Night

**A/N: **It's been a while. (See my profile for an extended excuse for that.) This is my first Destiel fanfic published, though it is sort of an extension of one that I'm working on right now which is approaching sixty pages already. I'll get it typed and update when I post it. Please read and review kindly. ^_^

**Disclaimer**: I do not own _Supernatural_. I wouldn't know what to do with all that pain if I did. Certainly this. Always this.

**Warning: **This fic is a M-M lemon between Dean and Castiel. There are **graphic descriptions of two men having sex**. If that is not what you clicked here for, please hit the back button on your browser now.

**Enjoy!**

The Night

He couldn't stop to think about it. If he thought about it, the whole thing would unravel, starting with the hours of reassuring himself that he wanted it. He grabbed Cas by the lapels and kissed him hard, struggling to maintain control over the part of him that thought it was wrong, that he shouldn't be doing this. Cas's mouth gave, and automatically Dean tilted his head and took more, tangling their tongues. He didn't want to stop until stars spun around his head. He jerked back, panting, all but clinging to Cas for support. And Cas just stood there.

"Stupid," Dean muttered and wiped his face with his hand, his calloused fingers scraping over his pulsing lips. He met Cas's gaze, searching for some response, some sign that the kiss—everything he'd poured into it—had somehow gotten through, was shared. Cas had that god-awful far off look in his eyes that drove Dean crazy. He swore and pounded to the bathroom to wash away the taste of Cas still soaking his mouth.

In the mirror, he glared at his reflection. It shamed him to see the discoloration in his lips, the burning green in his eyes. He turned his back to it and turned on the shower. He couldn't believe he'd done that. As he undressed, he worried what he should tell Cas. That it was a joke? That he hadn't meant it? Steam curled around the curtain as he flexed his leg, tried to distract himself with its ache. Then Castiel entered.

He didn't know what to say, how to step back out of the mess he'd made. "Listen, Cas..."

"I don't know how to..." Castiel began. "You go first."

"I'm sorry about back there. It was sudden and uninvited and—"

"I liked it."

He'd expected rejection, disgust, even hate, though he had no evidence that Cas would think that way. "You what?"

Castiel stepped up to him, glanced at his naked body, then met his eyes. "I liked it. I don't know what to do about it."

Dean could have laughed. "Neither do I." He leaned forward and kissed Cas again, this time slow, taking moments to breath, to caress, to fill himself with Cas's scent and flavor and relax into it. Lust unfurled in him, and he realized he stood naked in a steaming bathroom and Cas still had all of his clothes on. He'd raised his brother. He knew how to take off another guy's clothes. But it was _not_ the same. He thought of the dozens of women he'd undressed, and still it felt different. It felt weird to push the coat off those slouched shoulders, to untangle that mangled tie and unbutton the wrinkled shirt.

For a minute, Castiel stood, topless in front of him and he didn't know what to do. He knew he should unclasp the belt and push the pants off, as he'd done to women in their tight jeans, mini-skirts, leggings, even slacks. But he didn't know what to do after that, how to move forward when he didn't even know where to start.

Castiel must have sensed Dean's hesitation, because he leaned forward and touched their lips together in an innocent kiss. Dean wrapped his arms around Cas, afraid that if he let go, he'd have to continue or walk away. Cas held him.

"It's okay, Dean." Cas's breath warmed his ear.

Dean chuckled. "I guess I don't know what to do either."

"What would you do to a woman, were I one of the many?"

Dean pulled back and lowered his hands to Castiel's belt. For a moment his hands trembled, but he clenched his teeth and wrenched the belt apart, nearly tearing the pants in the process. He backed Cas into the bathroom door and pushed those pants down, tangling their mouths together while Cas fought his feet free. Without thinking, Dean ground their hips together and nearly jumped away when he felt Castiel's erection on his hip. He froze, panting into the crook of Cas's shoulder. He wanted to step back but Cas gripped him tight. He didn't want to pull away from that embrace.

So he lowered his hands to Castiel's hips, slid around to grip his ass, an anchor, the way he anchored himself to a woman and let her lust pour into him. But Castiel wasn't a woman; their erections slid close to each other, and if they touched, Dean didn't know what he'd do. He'd never been so close to another man that their hearts pounded in and out of rhythm, breath vibrating their chests against each other, lips tangling in their pursuit.

Dean moved to the stubbly neck, nipping, sucking, feeling the course texture on his cheek. Was this what he'd felt like to all those women? He pulled Cas's leg up to get closer, but he didn't know what to get closer to. He nipped Cas's ear and felt Cas's pleasured gasp reverberate between them and focused on that spot on getting that reaction again.

"Dean," Cas groaned.

Automatically Dean stopped. He'd done something wrong. He hadn't done something he should have. He stared at Cas and waited for a follow up, a demand, and insult. Some indicator of what to do.

"What?" he demanded when that response never came.

Castiel blushed. "I don't know."

"Why'd you say my name?"

"I didn't know what else to say. I've never felt this… pressure before."

"Lust?" Castiel had never gotten hard for anyone before him? That simple thought put a smile on his face, a lopsided grin that reflected his pride in a way his erection didn't. He stepped away from Cas and turned the water off in the shower. He didn't know anything about gay sex, but he knew a hell of a lot more about sex than Cas. So he ran his wet hand through his hair, sending the short crop into spiking disarray and stepped up to Cas, shoulders straight, eyes forward and locked on Cas's.

"Let's you and me go to the bed and sort this out?" He leaned forward, his breath bouncing off Castiel's lips, and turned the doorknob. "You're going to have to move."

"Oh. Right."

They went to the bed and Dean dug to the bottom of his duffle for the lube he hadn't needed to use in a long time. Though he had reservations, he figured he'd done it with a woman, how different could it be? He pulled out a couple of condoms and went to the bed.

"What are those?" Cas asked.

"Condoms and lube." He felt embarrassed to have to explain it to a grown man. "I, uh, figured we'd probably need them. That is, if you're willing to, you know…" He looked down at the bed, nerves trying to move into his stomach.

"I think I understand."

"You do? This is a big step, Cas." Please say no.

"Dean, with you, I can do anything." He looked nervous.

"Okay," Dean said. He kissed Cas again and tore open one of the condoms. Even if he used a condom, he couldn't be sure, not fully, that he didn't have something that he could give Cas. He rolled it down and felt Cas's curiosity caressing him. "It's to keep you safe."

"Like a seatbelt," Cas said.

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Like a seatbelt." Though he'd never thought of it that way, he kind of liked the comparison.

"Should I wear one?"

"No." Knee-jerk. You wore a condom when you went into someone, and _nobody_ entered Dean Winchester. He suppressed the nerves and put on a smile. "You've got nothing to worry about. You're an angel, remember?"

Castiel nodded.

"Okay." Dean blew out a breath.

"Okay," Cas repeated.

But after the casual talk, the uncertainty flared up. He'd never been so specific in his instructions. Most women knew what to do from a word and the way his hands moved. He told Cas to lie on his back, and climbed on top. It felt odd to have a body so close to his size beneath him. He didn't have to angle himself to kiss, to touch. He spent more time than usual, living in a momentary denial and reveling in simply soaking himself in Castiel's embrace. But sweat ran down his back and he throbbed to enter. He shifted to his knees and popped open the lube. He felt like he should say something, some kind of warning. What did you say to a guy who'd never even been turned on before?

"Cas." He swallowed. How the hell would he know what it would feel like? He slicked himself, tried to steady himself with arousal.

Castiel met his eyes, and the hesitant part of him melted in the unending trust.

"This might hurt," Dean said. He adjusted Castiel's legs and moved into position, then pushed forward. But Cas didn't give like a woman. "Cas, you've gotta relax down here."

"Oh. Sorry." But nothing changed.

"Cas?"

Cas stared up at the ceiling, face red and scrunched. He almost didn't breathe.

Dean sighed and let the legs go, crawled up to lay next to Cas. They didn't have to do it. Cas wasn't ready. For all his efforts, he wasn't sure _he_ was ready. He cupped Cas's neck and leaned in to kiss him.

"I'm sorry Dean." Cas looked down at their waists.

"Hey. This is not your fault. I'm the one who sprung it on you. My idea, my fault."

"No, Dean, I—"

Dean shut him up by yanking him into a kiss. They could kiss all night, and he would be satisfied with that. He put a hand on Cas's waist and languished in the feel of their mouths, lips, tongues, teeth, breath. Throbbing hard, Dean slid his hand between them to adjust himself and brushed his fingers over Castiel's erection. Cas gasped into his mouth.

He was a man. He knew his penis, how to touch it, what he liked. He slid his fingers over Cas, learning the shape, the spots that gave the most reaction. He stroked Castiel and felt Cas's trembling and demanding and confusing rumbling between them, quivering beside him. Cas broke their kiss and ducked his head against Dean's throat, hiding his expression. Dean adjusted his other arm to support Cas's head, to reassure even as he clenched his teeth in exertion and stroked Cas harder and faster. His shoulder began to ache, unused to the position.

"Dean—don't stop," Cas gasped.

"No, baby. I won't." He shifted his hand position to ease the muscles and felt Cas tense beside him. He tightened their embrace as Cas came, hips jutting. A sharp pain in the skin of his waist caught his attention, and he realized Cas's fingers dug into him. He slowed his strokes, stopped, and pulled his hand away, kissed the top of Castiel's disheveled crown. When Cas didn't uncurl, Dean pulled him closer and tried to reassure them both. It had felt good. Right. Cas's arm shifted, the hand moving from his waist to his back. Lips pressed against his chest.

"That was okay?" Dean asked.

"I don't know the right words to express what I felt."

"But it was okay?" He needed to know.

Castiel chuckled. "Yes, Dean. It was okay."

"Okay." He scooted back and pulled off the unused condom. He wouldn't need it. With a bit of effort and some grumbling, he pulled the blanket over them and pulled Cas in close. Already the angel's eyes drooped. Reflexively, Dean yawned. Even if angels didn't sleep, if Cas simply stayed there, in his arms, maybe they could both rest.


	2. Human

**Disclaimer**: I do not own _Supernatural_. I wouldn't know what to do with all that pain if I did. Certainly this. Always this.

**Warning: **This fic is a M-M lemon between Dean and Castiel. There are **graphic descriptions of two men having sex**. If that is not what you clicked here for, please hit the back button on your browser now.

**Enjoy!**

Human

Dean didn't know what woke him, but the moment his eyes opened, he realized Cas was gone and sat up, looked around, got out of bed to look for him. He didn't call out. If Cas had gone, he'd left without a word for something more important than Dean. And if Cas had something more important, Dean wouldn't interfere.

He got into the shower and braced himself on the wall. If Cas had run, Dean couldn't blame him for it. They'd never even kissed and suddenly he slammed Cas into a door, forced anal, jerked him off. He'd done something unforgivable.

"Cas. I'm sorry."

"For what, Dean?"

Dean spun so fast he slipped and had to brace himself on the walls to keep from breaking something. Cas stood at the back, not quite in yet, but far enough to show that he didn't wear anything. Dean remembered the feel of that body beneath him and turned away to hide his reaction. It didn't help when he heard Cas get in all the way. He couldn't look. If he looked, he'd touch, and then he'd want more, and last night couldn't happen again.

"May I join you?"

How much more in would it take? Then Dean realized he blocked the water from the shower and shifted so that Cas could step into the spray. So close, he could see the goose bumps that rose on Cas's skin. He wanted to wrap his arms around Cas and shelter him until the water warmed the goose bumps away. Why couldn't he put his hands around his angel and offer comfort and warmth? He had the will to control himself. So he did—and cursed when Cas jolted.

"I'm sorry," Cas mumbled.

Dean ran a hand through his hair and clenched it. Stupid. "Don't be sorry. I'm the one who…" He met Cas's eyes. The silent reassurance he felt in that ocean washed the guilt right up onto the beach of his mind. His gut clenched. "I'm the one who forced you, Cas."

He needed to get out of the shower. He couldn't bear to have Cas look at him that way. Cas had trusted him, as a friend, and Dean had forced his lust, his repressed desires onto that friendship. He yanked the curtain back, but Cas grabbed him by the shoulder.

"Dean, you didn't force me."

"You can't just deny that away, Cas. I came on to you. I forced you to—" He made the mistake of meeting Cas's eyes.

"Dean," Castiel said. "I am an angel. With one hand, I could kill you. All I have to do is touch you." He reached up and caressed Dean's cheek. Dean winced. "Anything you did, I could have stopped."

"But you were confused. Hell, I didn't' even know what I was doing." He pushed Cas's hand away. Then he all but pressed himself into the wall when Cas pressed forward, eyes boring into Dean with a determined confusion.

"You really believe me so weak that I can't know for myself what I want?"

Dean couldn't run, couldn't hide anything. Naked, sick with his own guilt, he couldn't accept what Castiel said. It would mean that the angel accepted him, wanted him. That heaven itself allowed it.

"Why'd you go?" he asked. He wanted Cas to step back so that he could breathe.

Without giving him an inch, Castiel said, "To find out what to do for you."

For him? Dean felt some relief that to Cas, no one was more important than Dean, but his shoulders ached with tension for the intensity of Cas's gaze. The air from outside the shower whispered across his damp skin, sending him into shivers.

"You're cold," Castiel said. He stepped back. "Get back in the water."

Dean started to move forward, but Cas hadn't moved back that far, and their chests brushed. The spray hit him in the back of his head and he tried to shift. Dean felt like a gorilla lumbering in the way. He took hold of Cas's upper arms and scooted sideways until they stood facing each other with the spray hitting them both.

Castiel leaned forward and pressed his lips to Dean's. So warm, so light, like feathers brushing over his skin.

Dean dug his fingers in and pulled their bodies flush. The knowledge that the warmth pressed to his skin was Castiel's erection didn't bother him as it had. He wanted to enjoy it, for them both to enjoy it. He broke the kiss and reached over and turned up the temp of the water, angling his head to flirt. It came so easily, a smirk, a wink, the subtle running of his fingers up Cas's arm to slide a thumb over Cas's collarbone. So sharp, jutting out. He wanted to lean down and nip at it but hesitated. Would Cas like it? He drew back and met those entranced eyes and felt lust unfold in his gut. He bent forward and pressed his lips to the fair skin, then parted them to tease it with his teeth. Castiel tangled his fingers in Dean's hair.

"Good?" Dean asked.

Castiel nodded.

Dean let out a breath and lowered his hands to Cas's waist, so thin, trim. He felt almost delicate without the layers of clothes, and Dean realized he'd wanted to protect Cas for weeks without even seeing the fragile human body.

Then Castiel reached between them and touched Dean, gripped him. He jerked in surprise, and Cas's hand slid over a spot that shot pleasure though him. He thrust forward, automated, and braced himself to get control so he didn't slip.

Shower sex was complicated.

"We should take this back to the bed," Dean said. But when Cas stoked him, he leaned into it, unable to break free from the feeling intoxicating him. Uneven, hesitant strokes, but they made him long for more. He caressed Cas's hand, molding them together so that he guided Cas's fingers to an even rhythm. Having Cas around his cock made his body weep. He wanted to—God, he didn't know what he wanted. He all but smashed their lips together, teeth catching flesh and smacking into each other in a sudden, sharp snap. Swearing, Dean jerked back, clutching his mouth. He ran through apologies and, with an impatient snap of his wrist, shut the water off. He wanted to be horizontal where he could have more control over Cas, more leverage.

Castiel shivered. "I did something wrong."

"No. I just." Dean pressed close to Cas to keep him warm. "I don't know what I'm doing. _You _don't know what I'm doing."

"I know what I want." Always so terse.

He ran a hand over Cas's head to soothe as his erection pulsed between them.

"I want to feel what you, so fragile, so human, feel when our bodies touch. I want to…" Castiel hesitated.

No. Dean refused to allow Cas to look away. He'd never known words to turn him on so fast that he wanted to ram into Cas there in the tub with nothing but their bodies to slick them together. "What do you want Cas?"

"To feel human."

The confession clutched at Dean's throat. How could he respond to such an open, innocent desire so essential that he'd forgotten it? He wrapped Cas in his arms and pressed their hearts together, their lips, their groins.

Human.

Dean turned Cas's body and positioned himself, realized he needed something to slick himself, grabbed the first bottle he saw, conditioner, and nearly broke the bottle getting into it. He didn't ask Cas's permission. Cas didn't protest.

Burying himself in Cas for the first time. A shiver running between them. The first thrust so slow. Kissing along those tense shoulders to the crook of the neck. The second thrust. A shocked gasp. Hands clenched into fists against the dripping tile. Heart pounding, pounding, pounding on the cage of his ribs. The love, the lust, the primal, sensual, need and want mingling.

"Cas," Dean gasped. He felt the searing edge approach and couldn't stop. He tried to warn, but his words came out garbled. Dean buried his face in the crook of Cas's neck, gummed and sucked and tried to hold on, to hold out for Cas. He wanted to feel Cas clench around him.

Cas gasped his name, sent him keeling over the edge unprepared for the orgasm that dominated him. He couldn't hold himself back, couldn't be gentle. He knew from the sharp jerk that he'd hurt Cas and tried to find his composure even as his hips thrust the last of his load into Cas's trembling body.

"God. I'm sorry," Dean gasped. "Are you okay?" Cas didn't respond. Dean lifted his head and saw that Cas pressed his head against the bathroom tile, hands still clenched in fists, breath coming in slow, deep pants.

"Cas?" He needed some sort of confirmation and realized he was still inside. He pulled out and had to grab Cas when the angel started to fall. "Hey! Talk to me. What do I do?" He turned Cas to face him, still trembling from the orgasm.

Cas's eyes focused. The intensity sent a ripple through him. Anger, the frosty edge of those blue eyes cutting through muscle and bone. He'd done something unforgivable.

He'd get a towel. Cas needed a towel. Dean needed to get away. He stumbled back, releasing Cas, an apology trapped behind lips still raw from taking what they wanted. He hadn't thought. Should have thought. Stupid.

"I—uh—"

"Dean."

"Let me get you a towel." He couldn't believe he'd just mounted Cas, unprotected, like some kind of dog. He yanked the curtain out of the way and grabbed a towel off the rack. Then he spun back and slipped, the realization shocking and painful even before his body slammed into the ceramic edge of the tub. His breath whooshed out even as lightning snapped through his back and spread. He clenched in agony.

Apple, pecan, banana cream.

He listed pie to keep his head clear, focused on the color, the texture, the spelling. It kept the pain back, blocked him from recognizing that he'd broken a rib.

"Here, Dean, let me," Cas said.

From the angle, Dean could see bruises from where he'd dug his fingers into Cas's hips. He'd been so rough, unforgiving, so unlike the even-tempered lover he became with women. How could he do that? Hurt Cas like that?

Yet Cas leaned forward and touched Dean's forehead. The pain vanished. Cas dropped to his knees, bent forward, still panting a little. Their faces were so close that Dean could see the lines of pain from the effort, feel the shivers. Without the constriction of pain, Dean could twist and get the towel. He wrapped it around Cas, though the cloth didn't cover as much as he'd hoped. He rubbed Cas's arms to try to work warmth into them.

"Dean…"

"Let me get you dried off." He could do that much. He rubbed the towel over Cas's head to try to wick as much water away as possible, rubbed it over Cas's shoulders and back. He grabbed Cas when the angel tried to get to his feet and failed.

"My vessel does not seem to work." Cas said it with such a confused, matter-of-factness that Dean chuckled, though his stomach pitched. Dean'd hurt Cas so bad that he'd had to use his angel powers to heal himself—and then Dean'd gotten hurt and he'd had to use his angel powers again.

"What can I do?" Dean asked.

Castiel didn't answer.

"C'mon, Cas, give me something here?"

"I think I need to rest," Cas said. He seemed perplexed by the notion.

"Okay." He could do that. "Let's get you dressed, get you in bed." He hauled Cas up and pulled an arm around his shoulder to support him. The towel dropped away, but Dean didn't stop to think about it. He half-carried Cas to the bed and dug into his duffle for something for Cas to wear. When he turned around, Cas huddled under the blankets.

Safe from him, Dean thought and went back to the bathroom to dry off and figure out what to do. Where did they go from there? He grabbed the towel from the bottom of the tub and flung it over the curtain rod to dry out. Blood spotted the off-white cotton, glaring at him. Bile rose into the back of his throat, not at the sight of blood, but that he'd made Cas bleed, that he'd done it just to get his rocks off. He left the bathroom.

Cas had the covers up over his head so that just the tips of his hair poked out. Dean dressed; his clothes stuck to his wet skin.

"I can hear your breath, Dean."

Embarrassed, Dean tried to make a joke. "If you couldn't, I'd be worried for my life."

Cas pushed the covers back and started to sit up until Dean protested. "Your worry is unnecessary."

Dean clenched his teeth to keep from saying something harsh. It hurt—he hadn't realized how much it would hurt—that Cas rejected him. And at the same time, Cas's expression said that it didn't matter because _Cas_ didn't matter. "You're necessary," Dean snapped. "So don't you tell me not to worry." When Cas looked away, Dean sat on the edge of the bed and whispered, "Don't turn away from me, Cas. Don't you dare."

He tried to reign in stallion of emotion racing in his chest. He should never have kissed Cas. He'd spun out of control, and it felt like he'd never get it back. He looked at his hands, restless, in his lap. How did he pull himself together enough to get them back to where they belonged?

"Dean." Castiel caught one of his hands and held it until Dean returned his gaze. "Thank you for your worry."

Dean looked down at his hand, chuckled as the tension squirmed in his chest. His eyes burned, but he looked up at Cas. "I don't know what I'm doing," he said.

"But I know what I want," Cas said and squeezed Dean's hand.


End file.
